One Watcher, Weighed and Found Wanting
by Clever Lass
Summary: When Wesley first shows up in Sunnydale, is he really up to the job? Someone else takes on the position of slayer's bodyguard... but not someone she would expect! Some subtle Angel-mocking included, free of charge. Complete.


"One Watcher, Weighed and Found Wanting"

by Clever Lass

_This is what happens when Buffy's new Watcher just doesn't measure up. Spoilers up to "Bad Girls." All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al. Takes place shortly after Wesley's arrival on the scene, and LONG before he turned into a cool demon-hunter guy on Angel. He's still dorky here. Enjoy!_

Part 1

Wesley Wyndham-Price stalked through the library waiting for his slayer and looking at his watch. She was late. Probably off seeing that "Angel," that boyfriend of hers, Wesley thought. At least Mr. Giles wasn't here at the moment, so he didn't have to put up with the older man's insufferable air of superiority. Wesley was determined to prove himself a better watcher than Rupert Giles, at the very least. At most, he might even outdo even Merrick! He was just beginning to imagine the look on Quentin's face when he was awarded the Tweed Jacket, the Watcher's Council trophy of outstanding achievement...

"Ah, finally!" he said shortly, as Buffy's businesslike steps interrupted his reverie. She flounced in and tossed her bag on the table. "You are exactly twelve minutes late, Buffy. Do you know what that means?"

"No gold star?" she said flippantly, sitting on the table and kicking her legs. She'd discovered the night before that this annoyed him, and she smiled sweetly at him.

Wesley sighed in exasperation. "No, it means you've wasted some valuable training time!"

Buffy opened up her purse and took out a compact. "That depends," she said, looking carefully in the mirror to make sure her makeup wasn't smudged.

"On what, may I ask?"

She closed the compact with an audible snap and put it away. "On whether you were planning to give me some valuable training. First time for everything, I always say."

Wesley chose to ignore the remark, and got right to the point. "So, have you done your homework about the demon Atoz? Will you be ready to face him next week, if you keep cutting short your training sessions?"

"My training is fine. I'm working with Faith most days." Buffy said. "So, any new light to shed? Other than Atoz's mother was feeling really mean when she named him."

"Uh, new light?" asked Wesley.

"Yeah, like why he's here, what he wants, that sort of thing. The information Watchers are supposed to research and provide for the slayer." Buffy snapped her purse shut and slid off her perch on the table. "But hey, Wes, don't worry your little head about it. There's plenty of time. After all, he's not due in town until next week, right?" She stalked out.

"I imagined that she'd just... kill him. What does it matter what he wants?" said Wesley to the empty room.

That night, as Buffy and Faith danced at the Bronze, they had an observer. The blond man observed them from the catwalk and began to smile. "Double your slayers," he murmured, "double your fun!" He approached the table where Willow sat uncomfortably with Xander. The boy got up to get another drink, and Spike took that as his cue.

"Hello, Willow," he said. She gasped, and he held up his hand defensively. "Now, I'm not going to hurt you, luv. Not this time."

"What do you want?" Willow asked nervously.

"Oh, nothing much. Just catching up on old times," he said airily.

"You're not... drunk, are you?"

He laughed. "Not this time, pet. I'm just sort of passing through and thought I'd drop in and see a few friends -- " His eyes darted to the figure of the tall, slouching, dark-haired man who had just come in. " -- and enemies." He finished darkly. He looked quickly at Willow. "Here, do you know any spells that would give a person boils? all over his face?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not really. All I know are mostly love spells, rat spells, and floating pencil spells." She changed the subject. "So, how's Drusilla? Did you find her?"

Spike reached over and took a sip of Willow's Pepsi. He shrugged. "Yeah, I found her. She's dead. She was with that chaos demon again and I sort of lost my head, so she did, too." He took another sip and handed it back to her. She took it gingerly. "Anyway, why would anyone go out with someone named 'Atoz,' anyway?"

Faith came back to the table and grinned at Willow. "Hey, Willow, who's the hottie you were talking to?"

Xander came back at that point, and tried to act casual. "What hottie?"

Buffy showed up. "There's a hottie? Where?"

"Um... behind you." Willow said, smiling weakly at Angel, who had followed Buffy over to the table.

Buffy turned. "Ah, so there is. Hello!" Angel's mouth twitched in what some might have called a smile, if they were feeling generous.

"No way, Willow, you're not getting away that easily," Faith pressed the issue. "I know I saw you with some gorgeous blond, and you two were acting pretty friendly, swapping drinks and all. So... spill!"

Willow looked around wildly, but there was no help for it. "Um, yeah, it was a guy. Only, it wasn't." She looked up somewhat fearfully at Buffy. "Does it count as a guy if it's a vampire?"

"I certainly hope so," Buffy said, linking her arm with Angel's. "Someone we know?"

"Spike," Willow said.

"Spike?" demanded Buffy.

"Spike!" Angel grated through his teeth as he caught sight of the blond vampire in question on the other side of the room, heading out the door. He started after him, but Willow caught his arm.

"Wait. He said he was just passing through and wasn't going to hurt anyone. He's visiting friends, he said." Willow explained.

"Friends!" Angel snorted. "All his 'friends' work for Trick now. He doesn't have any friends left." He glared at the empty doorway.

Buffy's eyes got very wide for a moment. "Oh, no." She gathered her things quickly. "I bet I know at least one person he's going to see."

"Who?" Xander asked.

"My mother."

Joyce put on the kettle. Having lived in England for a time, she knew her guest would probably enjoy a cuppa. She measured the loose tea into the infuser and filled the mug with hot tap water to warm it up first.

Spike watched appreciatively. "Joyce, you're the only one on this side of the pond who can make a decent cup of tea," he told her.

She blushed at the compliment and sat down. "So, how did it go with Drusilla?" she asked in a motherly fashion. "Buffy said you'd gone to find her and get her back."

"Badly," Spike admitted. "She was with that chaos demon again and I lost my temper."

"Did you beat him up?" Joyce asked jokingly, knowing her guest's love of violence.

"Naw, he got away. I cut Dru's head off, though," he said brightly, smiling at Joyce.

She closed her eyes and shook her head in mock disapproval. "Spike, it's unlikely that she's going to forgive you after something like that."

Their quiet chat was interrupted by Buffy's bursting into the room and throwing Spike over the table and grabbing him by the throat, much like last time. Angel followed close behind, and handed Buffy a stake.

"Spike, how many times do I have to tell you to leave?" Buffy demanded.

"Buffy, what is that man doing in my house?" Joyce demanded angrily.

"He's just leaving," Buffy said grimly, angling the stake toward Spike's heart and preparing to plunge it in.

"What are you doing? Give me that, you'll hurt him!" Joyce snatched the stake from her daughter's hand and pointed it toward Angel. "Buffy, will you please get off Spike?"

"She doesn't have to," Spike grinned up at the slayer, inordinately pleased with this turn of events. His words removed the slayer from his body immediately, and she glared at him. Angel growled.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Buffy asked. "And can I have my stake back?"

Joyce looked at her daughter. "I'll give you back the stake when you give me your word not to allow this... this monster into my house again." She gestured at Angel.

"Not a chance," Buffy said, making a lunge for the stake.

Spike intercepted her, just as quickly. "Uh-uh, slayer. You should listen to your mum." Buffy backed off, glaring. He smiled charmingly. "And Angel, didn't she just say you weren't welcome in this house?"

"That's right, I did," Joyce said. "You can leave now. Buffy, you stay here," she said as her daughter started to follow Angel to the door. "I don't want him in my house again, Buffy. Is that clear?" Buffy started to say something, but Joyce cut her off. "And I don't want to hear any stories about how he has a soul again. From what Mr. Giles says, if Angel ever has a nice day, he'll turn into a killer again."

"What about Spike, mom?" Buffy demanded. "You're the one who's harboring a dangerous killer now!"

"Now, now, slayer, I was only stopping by to say 'ello. Plus I haven't killed anyone for weeks."

"So you were going to start with my mother?" Buffy said.

"No, no, I'd never touch your mum! What kind of cretin would attack the slayer's mum? You'd stake my arse in a second! Besides," he said, smiling a little. "I like your mum. She makes a nice pot of tea."

"Oh no! The kettle!" Joyce cried as she ran from the room.

Buffy advanced on Spike slowly, a little discomfited that he didn't back up, but instead stood rock-still and grinned as she invaded his space. "Why are you here, Spike?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Would you believe I missed you?" Spike asked sardonically.

The slayer rolled her eyes but took a step back away from him. "No. Mortal enemies, remember? And if you can't remember that, remember how dubious I am about trusting you."

Spike smiled. "Well, that's not so bad. You started out hating me, then it was just a violent dislike, and now it's only ambivalence. You better be careful, or you're going to start liking me soon." He struck an exaggerated pose. "I know, I know, it's my "bad-boy" British charm, isn't it?"

Buffy was saved having to answer, which was lucky for her because she wouldn't have been able to. Her angry sputters merely bordered on coherency, but didn't actually cross. Joyce chose that opportune moment to enter bearing a tea tray.

"Here you are, Spike. It's a bit strong -- I hope you don't mind. Buffy?" She offered a cup to her daughter, who rolled her eyes.

"Mom, I'm not going to sit in here and drink tea with a vampire!" Buffy informed her.

Joyce picked up a cup. "Well, I am," she said calmly. "Spike, won't you sit down?"

He grinned and sat, taking a cup of tea. He sipped it slowly, winking once at the slayer over the rim of the cup. Buffy rolled her eyes.

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken by Joyce. "Buffy, don't you have to go patrol?"

"What, and leave you here with a bloodsucking demon?" Buffy demanded.

"Look, I've told you I won't hurt her. Now run along, little girl," Spike said.

Buffy rolled her eyes and left the house. Angel was waiting outside. "Hi. I have to go patrol. Can you keep an eye on things here?" she asked him. He gave his assenting grunt (which differed from his dissenting grunt not at all) and sat down on the porch as if he was going to stay awhile. "Thanks," Buffy said.

Part 2

She collected Faith and they made an uneventful swing through the park, and one through each of the four cemeteries in that part of town. After a couple of hours, Faith got bored and headed home. Buffy continued on her own, walking down the silent street and keeping a careful eye on the bushes. She was almost home when she felt something tickling her "spider senses." She slowed in her walk, casting around mentally for the demon's presence. An evil chuckle seemed to come out of thin air. Something tapped her shoulder. She whirled around -- nothing. She turned back the way she'd been going, and there he was.

Huge -- at least seven feet tall, with mottled skin, dripping pus, and antlers coming from his head, her enemy stood blocking her way.

"Hi there!" she said brightly. "You must be one of those boys my mother warned me about."

The thing gave her a mocking laugh. "Your mother wouldn't have the imagination to warn you about me, little girl."

Buffy's mouth quirked. "Can't argue with you about that. She seems even more dense than usual lately." She took up a fighting stance. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"Painfully," replied the creature. It grinned at her through a mouth full of unsightly, broken teeth. "And chaotically." He lowered his head and charged at her, almost impaling her on his antlers.

"Ole!" shouted Buffy, almost laughing. The monster looked ridiculous. He charged at her again. She dodged. She took off her jacket and waved it at him like a red flag at a bull. "Toro!"

The monster charged again, but instead of lulling her into security by seeming clumsy, he reached out with his hands and grabbed her. He pulled her along with him for a few feet, then stopped. Holding her arms above her head with one hand, the other fluttered over her ribs. "Tickle, tickle," he said.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Buffy exclaimed. She made one motion to free herself, but she knew she was in the hands of a power far greater than her own pitiful superhuman strength. "Um, maybe we can talk about this?" she smiled weakly.

The demon growled at her and tightened his grip. "Think I'll tear your arms off first," he remarked conversationally. "Then maybe comb your hair for you."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're not making any sense, you know. You sound almost as whacko as Drusilla."

The monster screamed in anguish. "Drusilla! My raving beauty! How I miss those ravings!"

"Man, she really did get around, didn't she? What a 'ho!" Buffy might have been better off had she kept this comment to herself. As it was, it was her last coherent one for quite some time.

"Now you remember to keep away from my daughter, Spike," Joyce admonished her guest as he departed. "She doesn't quite -- um... I mean to say, she'll kill you if you bug her. She would never believe you're trying to quit.

"That's all right, Joyce," Spike grinned. "Wish there were such a thing as a type O patch, though."

He turned to go, but Joyce stopped him. "One more thing." She looked out into the darkness around the house and called, "Angel!" Sure enough, the dark-haired vampire slouched into view. She glared at him. "I knew you'd still be here. Just remember, no matter what Buffy says, you're not welcome in my house!" Angel nodded wearily. Joyce continued. "And another thing. Spike is here in town as my guest, and I don't want him killed. Got that?"

Angel glared at Spike. "Yeah. Anything else?" he snapped.

"Stay the hell away from my daughter," Joyce hissed.

Spike chuckled at her using that same phrase on Angel that she'd used on him the first time they'd met. Then, though, her voice hadn't contained that personalized note of venom that it did now.

Walking away from the house, Spike started to whistle. He was in the best mood he'd had since... well, since he beat Angel's head in with a crowbar.

He was therefore not quite prepared for the sight of Drusilla's chaos demon stomping and kicking at the form of an unconscious blonde slayer in the street. "Sod!" he swore, running toward the demon. "Angel!" he yelled, desperate for reinforcements of any kind. He ran full tilt into the demon, pushing him over and away from the slayer. "Atoz, you scum!" he muttered, kicking the demon himself.

Atoz roared in pain and fury as he rose and tried to hook Spike on his antlers. "You killed my Drusilla!" he growled.

Angel arrived then, having heard the struggle. Knowing that Spike would have to be in dire straights before calling for his help, he had managed to grab a long-handled shovel from someone's garden on the way by.

Spike saw him coming and answered the demon. "Yeah, what of it? I also killed my Drusilla, and Angel's Drusilla, and Lenny's Drusilla, and hell, even Xander's Drusilla. Do you see a pattern developing here, mate?" He held out his hand, and Angel tossed the shovel to him. He pointed to Angel, standing behind the demon. "He's the one who started it, anyway. Blame him."

"That's right, I did," Angel snapped. Then he punched the demon in the face, followed up by a hearty kick to the midsection. The powerful demon was barely fazed. Atoz merely got his balance again and reared up to his full height, stretching his arms out to reach for Angel.

Spike made his move then. He swung the shovel swiftly, and the demon's head hit the pavement with a wet thud. It rolled until it was, grotesquely, sitting in front of Buffy's unconscious form.

The two vampires grimaced. Spike stepped forward first. Picking up the limp slayer, he began to carry her to his car. "'Ere, can you take care of the garbage?" he asked Angel. "I'll take her to her Watcher."

Angel sighed again -- he did that a lot for someone who didn't need to breathe -- and started dragging the corpse away. He kicked the snarling head under the bushes in someone's yard; he'd be back for it later.

Rupert Giles had fallen asleep on his sofa, when he heard a tremendous hammering at his door. He opened it to see --

"Let me in, you sodding bastard!" Spike had gotten himself so worked up on the drive over that by now he was in a towering rage. "Can't you see she needs some help?"

Giles, stunned, motioned him in. Spike carried Buffy to the couch the Watcher had just vacated and laid her down gently.

"What happened?" Giles demanded. "What did you do?"

Spike turned on him, livid. "What did _I_ do? Bloody hell! What the devil were you thinking, Watcher? Didn't you know a bleedin' CHAOS demon was in town? What kind of Watcher do you make yourself out to be, anyway, to let your slayer go out like that, against a chaos demon?" He started to pace the living room, carried away by his fury. Just let him know the slayer would be all right, and then he'd take out his anger on the Watcher who was foolish enough to let her go out unprotected against Atoz, he thought.

Giles knelt to examine Buffy. Except for the battering she had taken, resulting in heavy bruises and probably a few cracked ribs, she seemed undamaged. He waited a few seconds before answering his vampiric guest. "I'm not her Watcher anymore. The council sacked me and sent a new one."

Spike stopped dead. He turned slowly. "What?" he came closer. "Why the hell would they sack you? You've kept her alive, haven't you?"

"Well... mostly." Giles answered. He began to stroke Buffy's hair where it lay in shining strands on the pillow. "They told me I endangered her by caring about her so much. The implication was that I saw her as a daughter, and therefore could not be impartial with her training."

Spike snorted. "She's the best damned slayer in centuries, and I should know." Suddenly realizing that this probably wasn't the best choice of comments in the Watcher's presence, he turned to go.

Giles stopped him. "Spike? Why did you bring her here? What happened?"

Spike explained about the chaos demon, Drusilla, Buffy's attack, and Atoz's defeat at the hands -- and shovel -- of himself and Angel.

"But why didn't you kill her?"

"Man, I wish I knew. Maybe I'd miss her if she was dead." Spike spoke with a half-smile, which disappeared as he said, "I should go now. Just tell me one thing before I leave." he said.

Giles waited.

"Tell me where to find this new and woefully inadequate Watcher of hers." His voice was grim.

Giles didn't have any illusions about Spike's intentions toward Wesley Wyndham-Price, but he didn't find himself disagreeing with the vampire much. For the sake of his own conscience, he asked, "If I tell you, will you make a strong effort not to permanently damage the man? After all, I would have to report back to the council if Mr. Wyndham-Price met with a serious disaster. And they might send someone even worse next time."

Spike rolled his eyes. "'Wyndham-Price? He's a toff, eh? If I were feeling myself, I'd kill 'im just for that. As it is... Yeah, sure, I'll try not to kill the little pillock. Now, where can I find him?"

Giles, feeling guilty, told him. Then, to quiet the guilt pangs, he looked at Buffy's battered form and his eyes grew steely. "Of course, if you try and fail, I'll understand."

Dark vampire eyes met hard grey ones, and Spike nodded.

On the couch, Buffy stirred. "Ow."

"Bugger!" Spike exclaimed. "She's waking up! I'll catch you later, Watcher. And listen: Just because you got sacked is no reason to neglect your duty. If I hear that you let her get hurt, and didn't warn her, I'll come after you next."

"And I'll deserve it," Giles observed as the vampire disappeared through the door just as the slayer awoke.

"Giles?" she said weakly. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "It's a long story, one which I am quite sure you will not believe."

Wesley answered the door when the young blond Englishman knocked politely. "Yes?"

"Mr. Wyndham-Price? I'm sorry for calling so late. You don't know me, but I'd like to talk to you. Mr. Giles tells me he is retired, and that you have a closer connection to the council than he does. He said you'd be able to answer all my questions." Spike spoke with no trace of his rough accent; instead, he sounded more educated than Wesley himself did.

Wesley preened. This obviously educated young man had actually sought him out for answers! This was proof that he was coming into his own as a Watcher, if even Giles was sending him people looking for information. "Yes, of course, I'd be glad to help you, Mr. --"

"Williams."

"Yes, Mr. Williams. Do come in." Wesley said, holding the door open for his guest.

Spike grinned. Now, those are words I like to hear, he thought. He walked in and closed the door.

Buffy limped into the library the next morning, still bruised and sore, but much better than she'd been the night before. She stopped dead and stared at her mentor.

Giles was sitting at the table, laughing. Laughing so hard he was teary-eyed and didn't even know she was there. He was holding a piece of paper in trembling fingers.

"Giles?" Buffy asked, wondering.

He wiped his eyes as he began to get control of himself and try to regain his dignity. "Ah, Buffy. Just the slayer I wanted to see!" he said gaily.

Buffy said, "Huh?"

He handed her the telegram from England and cleared his throat. "Uh, it seems... Wesley is returning to England, and I have been reinstated as your Watcher. And commended for my devotion to duty and to my slayer." He smiled at her.

Buffy stared, and before she knew it, they were hugging each other. "This is great!" Buffy cried. Then she stepped back, suddenly realizing she had been hugging the school librarian. Her eyes twinkled as she asked, "Does this mean you'll take me to the ice show next year?"

"That remains to be seen," he said formally.

She let that pass, and changed the subject. "It's kinda sudden, isn't it? What happened?"

"Well, it would seem that you have... 'friends in low places,'" he said. "Wesley was the victim of a vampire attack last night, and brutally beaten for his dereliction of duty in letting you face Atoz unprepared. I must confess to a certain lack of sympathy for the man, though. He did miscalculate the date of the demon's arrival, and he didn't provide you with enough information on how to kill him or what he wanted. He failed as a Watcher, and his uncle the assistant director, sacked him."

Buffy was surprised. She knew Angel didn't like Wesley, but she hadn't thought him likely to beat the man up. He wouldn't have the nerve.

Giles saw her expression, and his own softened. "This vampire saved your life, killed the demon, brought you to me unconscious last night, and then forced Wesley to go home because of his failure to keep you safe. He also made Wesley to sign a statement that the best Watcher for a slayer like you... would be the one she was used to, the one who had kept you alive." He saw her sharp look, and amended, "Well, who would have kept you alive if you hadn't insisted on going off to meet the master unprepared!"

Buffy shook her head. "I just didn't think Angel would do something so... guilt-causing."

Giles took off his glasses and wiped them. "Oh, it wasn't Angel," he said. He slowly put them back on, enjoying the dramatic pause and the sharp glare she leveled at him. "It was Spike."

Buffy turned without a word and walked out, trying not to limp.

Giles went into his darkened office and sat down at his desk. "It's not that I'm not grateful, but why are you doing this? I had thought that you hated her, you know, 'mortal enemies,' et cetera."

The vampire's voice from the shadows in the office replied, "I wish to hell I knew why, Watcher. Mortal enemies, yeah, but I've never hated her. It's never been personal."

Giles looked keenly at him. "And now it is personal."

"Yeah."

"But still not hatred," the Watcher pressed.

"No." Spike's eyes never left the worn carpet under the desk. "Not hatred."

END

_See that little blue button that says "Go"? Well, press it and tell me what you thought. Thanks!_


End file.
